Time Travel For Beginners
by MuchMoreRetro
Summary: Using HG Wells' Time Machine, Myka travels back to her own wedding day to solve the mystery of how and why Helena Wells disappeared from her life. Little does she know that there are greater things at work. Can Myka find Helena and rekindle their past friendship and maybe more, or will the Universe get in her way?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer****:** Nothing is my own. Even these words belong, in part, to Google Docs.

**Author****'****s****Note****: **This is my first foray into the Warehouse. The first chapter is mainly exposition. Next chapter, HG. Rated T for now, might change for later chapters. Thanks to Sonia, my beta. Jet lagged and still manages to get the job done. Enjoy!

A lot of people say they don't remember their wedding day. With all the work that goes into making the day everything you'd hoped it would be, you'd be surprised by what little chance you get to sit and really let it all soak in when it's finally happening. The sounds, the smiles, the kind words; all those wonderful things on that magical day are unsurprisingly hard to appreciate when you're working to such a demanding schedule. At the church by 1100 hrs, photos at 1230, everyone ready at the venue for lunch by 1400. _Oh __what __a __beautiful __service__, __Myka __darling__, __you __look __absolutely __stunning__. __You __two __make __such __a __wonderful __couple__, __any __plans __to __make __it __three__? _Everything can get a little overwhelming on your wedding day.

My mother had given me strict instructions to find the best wedding photographer I could, and and a videographer too for that matter. _It__'__ll __go __by __in __an __instant__,_ she always said, _mine __did_. I'd laughed, thanked her, and told her a single photographer would be fine. It was to be a small wedding anyway, just a few close family and friends, and I felt like having a whole posse of strangers running around with cameras would make the experience far less personal, and most certainly more stressful. One would suffice, one would be plenty.

I had chosen Claudia to be my Maid of Honor, that was a no-brainer. Somehow she'd convinced herself that I wouldn't even ask her to be part of the wedding party. For a computer whiz and genius of our time, she has always been a bit lacking up there sometimes. When I'd asked her she'd squealed and leaped around the B&B, roused a hibernating Pete, and hugged me so tight that I had felt like I was wearing Sophia Loren's corset all over again, which after that rather breathtaking trip to Rome, had gone on to reside in Aisle Foxtrot 85B, thank the heavens. Pete was, of course, our Best Man. He'd wanted to give me away but relented when I reminded him I did actually have a father who would probably want to get in there before him. He'd told me he'd give me away next time. I'd told him where he could get off.

We'd all prepared our speeches. Pete's was hilarious, or so I've been told. It'd had Artie ruffled and blushing and Steve on the floor in stitches. Claudia had insisted on speaking also, after fully assuming her position as chief Bridesmaid, and I'd insisted she spoke as well. My Father said that she had spoken beautifully, even brought a tear to his eye, which if you knew my father, you'd tell me I was pulling your leg.

But I don't remember. I don't remember any of it. Maybe I should have gotten a videographer, that's what my mother tells me anyway. _I to__ld __you __so__. _Thanks mum, next time yeah? The first thing I remember was looking for her, looking everywhere, and not finding her. It had been our first dance, and she wasn't there. I'd scanned the faces in the small group surrounding us as Matthew had taken my hand. Smiling faces looked upon us, tears of happiness flowed steadily from my mother, as my father stood by with a supportive but firm hand on her shoulder. Everyone was there, everyone but her, everyone but Helena.

She was supposed to be there, she'd said she'd be there. She'd helped Claudia and I pick out flowers and choose colour schemes, she'd come to my dress fitting, told me when I looked good and when I looked ravishing. She'd even arranged the venue, and a stunning venue it had been. She'd wanted so much to be a part of it, I'd wanted her to be a part of it. We both understood why, though neither of us spoke of it. Only one of a multiplicity of things I regret when it comes to HG Wells.

I had tried to think back to earlier in the day. Had she been at the service? I couldn't remember. At the meal? I'd drawn a blank, not only at the attendance of HG Wells, but I'd drawn a blank on the entire day. I couldn't remember the vows or the meal or the speeches. I 'd allowed Matthew to twirl me around the dance floor as all I could do was let my body follow his lead, my head was elsewhere. I had tried desperately to cast my mind back to the last thing I could recall. I began to ask myself if I'd even remembered getting up that morning. I knew the plan had been for the hairdresser to arrive at the B&B for 0630 hrs, but did I actually recall ever seeing the hairdresser that day? I knew I didn't. The last thing I'd remembered, and to this day I've not managed to recall anything after this moment until that first dance, was getting in my car the day before the wedding after a shift at the Warehouse with Helena and putting my keys in the ignition. After that, everything went blank for exactly 22 hours and 19 minutes, when I came around, so to speak, I was married and she was gone, and it's been that way for three years.

At least I have the photos, and they are beautiful, I must say. So many familiar, smiling faces; family and colleagues. Well, all family really, every single one of them. I did look pretty awesome that day, if I do say so myself. And even Pete looked like the dashing rogue he'd always claimed to be. And who knew Artie scrubbed up so well? And could smile so brightly? Claudia in her purple, strapless dress, grinning from ear to ear can be seen tucked under Steve's arm as he smiles proudly, and Leena looks enchanting as always, wearing the same as my one and only Bridesmaid. Everyone's smiling, everyone's happy, even Matthew who had been so nervous before the ceremony. He will forever recount the story of his disastrous journey to the church, but after the dust had settled he looked so happy, happy and proud. Proud to have me, proud of me, proud of his new family.

There is one person in the photo, however, who isn't smiling, and that person is me. For a long time I looked at that photo and saw a stranger staring back, for a long time I was angry, but I was angry about a lot of things. I was angry that someone had taken away some of my most precious memories from me, I was angry that I had absolutely no control over that and I was angry that there was someone missing from the photo as well as me. Someone who knew me better than anyone, maybe the only person who would have known it wasn't me behind those eyes. I've asked Leena numerous times since then about my aura that day, but all she could tell me was that I'd shone brighter than I'd ever shone before. But how could I have if I wasn't me? How could I have with her gone?

Maybe if I could get those 22 hours and 19 minutes back I'd be a little more the wiser. So you see, when most people tell you, _Oh __my __wedding __day __just __flew __by__, __I __don__'__t __remember __a __thing_, it's probably because they were in a flap over there being one too many vegetarians than they'd catered for, or that the father of the Bride was known for his love of liquor and was already juiced up to the eyeballs before the speeches had even started . No, not me, I don't remember my wedding day because someone else did it for me. Someone else is behind my eyes in all of those photos. Someone had Atticus Finched me, they'd got all up in my skin and walked around in it on the happiest day of my life, and up until recently, I couldn't even begin to understand who or why. But things change. Sometimes reliving something over and over only helps to cheapen a memory, not cherish it. Watching a home video or revisiting photo albums can help to rekindle old memories, but if you live it over and over you begin to see the cracks, something that started out perfect suddenly becomes imperfect as your expectations change and shift. A stellar performance can become flawed simply because after multiple viewings, it's no longer groundbreaking or new. It no longer excites in the same way.

Mine and Matthew's marriage started off a happy one. He was my one, my one who knew about the Warehouse, my one I chose to tell. I told him the night he proposed, he needed to understand what he was marrying into. He was a nice normal guy who liked normal things and had a normal job teaching French at a pretty normal local High School in Univille. When we met, he was like a breath of fresh air. He was everything I needed, he was constant, and for some reason that was _all_ I needed. He was there and he loved me. But I made a mistake, as we all do I suppose. He was constant but he wasn't her. I'd compromised and found myself wanting.

She'd left the Warehouse on the eve of my wedding day. She'd told Leena she was being sent on an emergency assignment when she packed her things and left the B&B. She'd lied. I waited. I think I'd hoped that maybe she'd come home to me, grab me and shake me telling me what a terrible mistake I'd made. Sweep me off my feet and tell me how she was never going to leave my side again. That day never came though. I spoke to Artie but he shut me down in usual Artie fashion. I even spoke to Mrs Fredericks but she told me Helena G Wells had completely dropped off the Warehouse's radar.

Eventually I asked Claudia to look into it for me, for if anyone could find HG it was her, but she'd simply shook her head. She'd told me that I had a chance at happiness and that I should be taking it. After all, not a lot of Warehouse Agents get that chance. I had a loving husband and loyal family in the Warehouse, and I should settle for that. She'd insisted that _settle_ had been a slip of the tongue and quickly corrected herself. She'd told me settling would in fact be welcoming HG back every time she finally decided to come home after some jaunt into the world of criminality. Settling would be waiting for Helena. So I waited, and I settled with Matthew.

It was unfair on him, I know. I'm a horrible person, and a terrible wife, but I was never unfaithful, just unfulfilled, and after time so was he. The Warehouse demanded more and more of my time. There were more and more artifacts of greater and greater power and it was beginning to get hairy out there. I missed her. I missed her strength, her optimism. I missed how she believed in me even when I didn't. She had been my partner in almost every way imaginable, every way except one. At first I thought that maybe she was just giving me time, but as the months past I began to realise I'd lost her. I'd taken too long and she wasn't coming back. Who could blame her? I had gotten married to someone else for God's sake. So I buried my head even deeper into Warehouse business than usual, and desperately tried to fill the Helena shaped hole that got inexplicably bigger with every week that went by. I volunteered for every inventory and every excursion, and I even began to spend nights back at the B&B in my old room. Sometimes I'd even spent nights in hers.

Before long, I wasn't a wife anymore, I had simply become an occasional visitor to the Bering-Hart household. There was a big bad coming, Artie had tried to hide his concern but the quieter he is on a subject, the more worried you should be, and he had kept pretty schtum on the topic for quite a while.

After four days in Boston, three in New York and then another three in Philadelphia spent chasing an artefact, I had finally found myself back in the Warehouse, logging and depositing our most recent acquisition. A piano key believed to have originated from Beethoven's first piano. It imbued it's owner with an incredible musical talent but unfortunately also stripped them of the ability to hear their masterful creations, or anything else for that matter. It was then that I saw it again, for the first time in a long time. Helena's machine. HG Wells' 'Time Machine'. And that's when I knew what to do, what I had done, and what I was going to do.

Helena had always said that the ink with which our lives are inscribed is indelible, and perhaps she was right, perhaps there was no use in going back to that day, the day she left, the 22 hours and 19 minutes I lost, I know it won't change anything, it can't. I can't change my past, but maybe it could give me the tools to change my future.

When I found Helena's machine in the Warehouse I knew that it had been me, I knew that I had been the one to gatecrash my own wedding. From 1812 hrs the night before to 1631 hrs on my wedding day, Myka Bering, 35 years of age, had body snatched Myka Bering, 32 years of age on the biggest day of her life. I couldn't help but smile when I found the note attached to back of one of the chairs, a note left there for me to find, a note left three years prior. My stomach fluttered with excitement and anticipation and my heart swelled with hope. I read the words, hands trembling and I knew things were going to change.

_My __darling __Myka__, __so __you__'__ve __come __looking __for __me__? __I __knew __you __would __eventually__. __I__'__ve __made __a __few __modifications__, __I __do __hope __Artie __won__'__t __mind__. __I__'__m __sure __you__'__ll __know __what __to __do__. __There __are __so __many __things __I __long __to __say __love__, __but __I __shall __keep __them __with __me__, __close __to __my __heart__, __ready __for __when __we __meet __again__. __I__'__ll __see __you __soon __my __dear__. __Yours __always__. - __Helena__._

_TBC_

**Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading :) - Alex.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer****:** Nothing is my own. Even these words belong, in part, to Google Docs.

**Author****'****s ****Note****:** Firstly, thank you guys so much for all the reviews, I really appreciate every single one of them. Keep them coming :D This one has taken me a while. There was more to it but I had to make a decision split it down the middle, hopefully that means you'll see an update soon. Thanks again to my beta Sonia, I know I made this one tough and if there are any mistakes, they're all mine. I have taken a few liberties, I'm sure someone will spot them. Enter HG Wells.

_'But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm.'_

Hot, hot, smoke, fire? Where's the fire? I took my hands off the steering wheel to try and clear my field of vision... _Wait...I took my hands off the steering wheel?! _ What steering wheel?! I was in a car, I was driving a car, the car that I was driving was moving and I was in it. _ None of this can be good. _I fumbled for the steering wheel and gripped it tight as soon as my hands found purchase. With a firm foot to the brake the car careered to a halt, throwing me forward until I was a shaken but unhurt mess on the dash, which is where I stayed for a moment, resting my head on the warm faux leather that had been warmed by the Dakota sun. I gave myself a few moments to regain my composure, steady my breathing. The last thing I had remembered of this day was getting in my car after a day at the office. Of course I should have been prepared for something like this. _You're an idiot Myka._

'Myka, are you quite alright?' My stomach flip-flopped at the sound, a sound I hadn't heard for three years, the sound of Helena's voice. Her dulcet tones. My heart raced as my face began to flush and my skin began to prickle. There was a slight panic in Helena's voice however, one usually reserved for whenever I was in a life threatening situation, or whenever she had a gun held to my head.

The car door opened, but I kept my head down. I'd waited three years for this moment and I was wholly unprepared. I wasn't expecting it so soon. I'd had a plan, a good plan and a plan which had now been thrown unceremoniously out of the window. It was on to Plan B, not that there'd been one. I took a couple of steadying breaths. This was after all what I had wanted.

'Myka?' She enquired again, her tone hitching. I felt soft fingertips graze my chin and I froze. My thinking stopped, my breathing stopped, I even think even my heart may have stopped beating momentarily as once again I got to feel Helena Wells' soft, porcelain skin upon my own. I felt my lips curl into a smile. This was exactly what I wanted, I should embraced it, not be petrified of it until my 22 hours and 19 minutes are up.

The fingers came round to cradle my far cheek in her palm, and, ever so gently, she turned my face to hers. My green eyes met the dark orbs of HG Wells, criminal mastermind, warehouse agent extraordinaire and literary genius. She was beautiful. A smile began to pull at the corners of my mouth, my heart beat out of my chest. A 'Hey,' was all I could muster, a goofy grin on my face, my cheeks red. I was a lovestruck teenager all over again.

'Hello,' she said with a curious smile, her black eyes dancing, no longer with concern but mild amusement. 'What happened?'

I had to think quickly, but I had been caught for too long in those eyes, 'Er...' _Think Myka, think_. 'Something ran out in front of the car...' I shook my head as if trying to clear the cobwebs, playing for time.

'Myka, are you okay?' Her voice turned to concern again as her thumb soothed softly across my hot cheek, her cool hands calming the skin there. I worked hard to contain a shiver that was threatening to break across my body. This was the most intimate I'd been with someone since, well, since before the incident in Toronto which had been a good three months prior to this. It had been Valentine's Day and Matthew had insisted we do the whole shebang. I was on a plane for Ontario before he'd even woken up. Since then, it had been all quiet on the western front.

I gave a more certain smile this time and nodded my reassurance. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' I turned my palms out to HG, and gave a gawky shrug, 'Look, unscathed.'

'Good,' and she relaxed. 'I was worried that y...' Helena paused, a small frown creasing her brow. Her eyes quickly did a once over the interior of my car. 'Have you been smoking in here?'

_Shit, the smoke! The time machine smoke! _ 'What?! Smoking? No! I don't... do that, it's bad for... car interiors.'

That seemed to do nothing for the frown adorning HG's forehead but she shook it off. 'Right. So everything's fine. You're fine?'

'Yeah, I'm just,' I fell silent for a moment and took her in, the raven haired beauty finally in front of me once again. Her snow white skin, her freckle dusted neck, the curve of her breast in one of her famous waistcoats, something I had taken to wearing over the last few years, something that hadn't gone unnoticed at the Warehouse. Tweed today, I rather liked it, very British, very Helena. She was right in front of me, so close, I wanted to reach out and touch, take what I'd been missing these last few years, snake my hands round her waist and - 'It's good to see you,' I finally spoke, earnestly. And it was. It was beyond good, it was great, fantastic, transcendent. Utter wonderment. And at the same time, simply crushing. I didn't have her back, not yet and seeing her now didn't guarantee anything.

'It's a pleasure darling, and it is always good to see me. A feast for the eyes no less. But we said our goodbyes just a moment ago Myka.' Almost as if with a life of their own, Helena's fingers, which were only moments ago burning trails across my cheek, were now seeking the soft skin behind my ear and then the thick brown curls that laid beyond.

I felt a hot blush begin to spread across my cheeks like wildfire. I needed to get a bearing on the situation, and fast. Clearing my throat, I attempted to regain some lucidity upon the situation. 'Did I say where I was heading?' I mustered.

HG shrugged, not tearing her eyes from mine and answered flippantly, 'Home I believe'.

'Oh,' I shook my head, doing my best dazed and confused impression, and managed to escape Helena's dark, consuming eyes, although she still had purchase with her fingertips entangled in my hair. 'And where are you going?'

'The Bed and Breakfast, why?' I couldn't lose Helena. I had to stay with her until I knew how to get her back.

My hand found Helena's. 'The B and B's a little closer,' I smiled, 'I'm actually not feeling all that hot -'

'Oh, well-' I could see her eyes widen, colour rise in her cheeks. Helena had gone from poised to concerned and flustered in naught point six seconds. I was going to get my way.

'Do you think I could crash with you,' I cut in, 'Just for a little while? As soon as I get home it'll be all go you know? Last minute preparations, being sociable with Matthew's parents, dealing with vegetarians I hadn't anticipated. I'm not sure if can. I just need to rest my head, just for a little while-,'

'Of course,' Two hands were now helping me from my car and leading me towards another. 'I think you should leave your car here if you're feeling a little untoward. I can drive us.' I was already sat down and strapped in before I could even accept the offer.

'That would be fantastic.'

* * *

I fiddled with the radio. Beethoven had been tuned out, I'd had enough of that guy over the past week and a half. I'd always assumed that Helena listened to classical music and only classical music until we'd worked on a case near Lubbock, Texas. She'd dragged me to the headstone of Buddy Holly and laid some flowers that she'd bought at the airport. I remember, we'd just stood there for a little while. She'd spoken softly, out of respect; she'd made me a mixed tape. HG had been putting the Warehouse archives to good use.

After a rummage around in the glove compartment I found what I was looking for, Pete's Prisoner of Azkaban audiobook. I'd left it in there from our trip back from the airport. Helena had borrowed the novel from Pete's rather extensive Harry Potter audiobook collection, but only the Prisoner of Azkaban, no others. Hermione was a foolish young woman for meddling with Time Travel at such a young age, she said. So many variables, so much uncertainty, but what she lacked in maturity she made up for in ingenuity and rationality. It was no surprise that Helena only listened to the last quarter of the book on repeat. I'd offered to get HG some audio-books of her own works but she'd outright refused, adding that she'd much prefer to just have me read them to her. I'd promised to make time for that, but it had never happened.

I put the CD in player and found the right chapter. 'Chapter 17, Cat, Rat and Dog,' came Stephen Fry's voice over the car's speaker system. I'd still remembered the right chapter number after three years. We had listened to this at least once through on almost every car journey, and there had been lots of car journeys, believe me. I leaned back into my seat, closed my eyes for a moment, and exhaled slowly. Helena was next to me, she was right there and it was excruciating not being able to intervene. I wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. This woman would walk out of my life in less than twenty four hours, and I couldn't stop it, I couldn't change it. I stole a sideways glance at the darker haired woman sat in the driver's seat. Her shoulders were tense, a muscle in her jaw ticked rhythmically and her hands gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white, but her eyes told me something different. She was working something over in that great mind of hers. Cogs were turning, dark eyes burning. Was she thinking about the future, was she conflicted? The unknown of it all was driving me mad with each passing second.

Helena must have felt my eyes upon her since she quickly glanced over to my slouched, suspicious form in the passenger seat. Any animosity that was there a moment ago was now absent from her striking features. 'Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the ER, just in case?' she asked whilst reaching over to feel my forehead, a small smile forming.

Playfully batting her hand away, I chuckled, 'I'm fine, really, but thank you,' to which she nodded with a smirk.

'So...,' those eyes flicked between me and the road, her lips pursed, but that smirk still lingered. 'How far back did you travel?'

My eyes snapped to hers. _Shit, busted. _'What?!'

'From the future,' HG continued, evenly, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. 'How far have you come?'

_Feign innocence Myka, you're not the time traveling author from the nineteenth century, she is_. 'I don't know what you're talking about-'

Helena shook her head in amusement. 'You're a terrible liar, Myka. The smoke. You losing control of the car. Your inability to remember instances from just ten minutes prior.'

'I remembered what chapter to start Harry Potter on!'

The author continued to herself, eyes dancing now with curiosity, 'You're certainly Myka, just not _my_ Myka.'

'Really Helena?! Really!?' My voice was getting higher and higher. She wasn't even paying me any attention now. I'd only gone in 20 minutes prior and had already managed to get caught. _ Good job Myka, and the Secret Serviced hired you why?_

'Yes, really.' She flashed me one of her trademark smirks, again. _ Rubbing it in._

I blew a stray curl out of my eyes with an impatient puff. I was frustrated, and a little turned on, but that was always the way with Helena. 'I am, and will always be, your Myka.'

Helena threw her head back this time, a throaty laugh escaping her. 'Definitely not mine, although I do like this one'.

I gritted my teeth, folded my arms and sulked back into my chair. 'I'm not going to be able to bring this one back am I?'

'Nope', she shook her head, her raven hair catching the evening sun streaming through the car window.

'Man, I suck at this! I didn't even last an hour.' My head was in my hands now. How could I have been such an idiot? How did I not think that HG Wells would have me sussed as soon as she locked eyes with me? I raked my hands down my face. I guess you can't change the past. So if it was supposed to go this way, I'd just have to roll with it. I could do that, right? … Where was Pete when you needed him?!

'Don't worry darling, it was a noble effort'. I couldn't help but feel that she was humouring me. The look on her face confirmed my suspicions.

My embarrassment just and so allowed me a quiet, 'Thank you,' and after a moment's pause I decided to finally relent. 'Helena, can you stop the car?'

And with the politest of nods she replied, 'Certainly.'

* * *

'I'm a friend.'

'I know, darling, I know it's you. I just don't know which you it is.' She'd pulled over to the side of the road, unfastened her seatbelt and was now sat facing me, calm as anything, with that same curiosity in her eyes.

'3 years,' I shrugged, 'I didn't think you'd work it out so quickly.'

I must have been pouting slightly with disappointment at my poor showing as she followed suite sympathetically and leaned across to give my hand a squeeze. 'Well, I did invent the machine. I'm pretty accustomed to how it works.' Her hand in mine again was a revelation. I laced my fingers between hers. Her palms had always been surprisingly soft for someone who worked with their hands so often on various new fangled inventions or Warehouse maintenance projects, I didn't want to let go.

'Yeah...' I looked up, my eyes meeting hers. 'So, what now?'

'You tell me. You're the one who decided to travel back in time. There must have been a reason.'

Could I tell her? If I did, surely it wouldn't change anything, it couldn't. It's happened before and it will happen again, whatever I do and whomever I tell. 'I-'

She gave my hand another reassuring squeeze. 'You can't change anything Myka, that's not how it works.'

'I know, I know that. I just wanted to see you.' And that was the truth of it really. I just wanted to see Helena. HG Wells, the woman who'd stolen my heart at gunpoint and then left with it three years ago.

'That's a rather bizarre reason to travel back in time,' she scoffed, but she'd broken eye contact, the conflict present again, and this time I knew what it was. She was thinking about what lay before her. She was thinking about leaving Univille and the Warehouse. She was thinking about leaving me. She was reasoning with herself, denying my words, telling herself they meant something else, something else entirely.

'It wasn't for Rebecca,' I said earnestly, hoping that my rather intense grip on Helena's hand would communicate everything I've ever wanted to say to her but never had the guts to do so. Rather unsurprisingly, it didn't do the job.

'Well that was completely different, Rebecca was-'

'Helena,' I pleaded with my eyes for her to understand.

A small frown wrinkled across her forehead, and she knew. 'You're looking at me like you've not seen me since...'

'Today? I haven't.'

HG froze, her brow furrowing even more, her darks eyes suddenly filled with trepidation. 'I've been gone three years?' She asked, her mouth open slightly with disbelief and I felt my heart sore, just a little, before plummeting. She had meant to come back, she'd never intended to leave for good. Only she hadn't come back, something or someone had stopped her. Part of me was elated, part of me felt sick. Sick with worry. Sick with the prospect that perhaps Helena never returned to me, not because I'd broken her heart, something I don't admit to often but seems preferable now considering, but because she couldn't come back. And I didn't want to think much beyond that. I couldn't if I wanted to find her.

'Yep,' I nodded, a sad smile tucked in my cheek. 'Not even a postcard.'

'Not even a postcard?' I nodded. The author let out a defeated sigh, she couldn't hide the worry in her voice. 'Well then Myka,' she said, taking my hand now with both of hers, 'There's much I need to tell you.'

* * *

We pulled into the B&B just as chapter eighteen was beginning. To avoid getting even more busted, I silently crept upstairs, to avoid whomever the muffled voices belonged to downstairs, Helena on my heels. When I got to the door to her room, I grabbed the handle and lifted the door up ever so slightly, shifted it to the right and then turned the handle. It had a knack, and I'd learned it after my numerous sleepovers at the B&B, sleepovers I'd spent in her room, not mine.

'How do you know about that?' Helena's enquiring voice floated up from behind me as I stepped across the threshold.

'I come here a lot,' I shrugged as I took the room in. It looked so different with all her things in. She'd hardly left anything behind when she'd disappeared, just a few things that were replaceable or disposable. My answer was met with silence, but I could hear her brain processing that tidbit of information.

I moved over to her dresser and ran my fingers around its edges, across the intricate carvings and smooth varnished walnut, like I had done so many times before. Or hadn't done, not yet.

'So, do you really need to lie down?' She asked skeptically.

'No,' I turned round to find her eyes fixed on me, on my movements. She frowned and I brought my hands quickly to my side. 'I only have another 21 hours and 25 minutes left and I intend to make the most of it.'

'Doing what exactly?' Her voice was quiet, almost with anticipation and she'd closed the gap between us without my noticing. I could practically feel the innuendo.

'Finding out everything I can. Why you left, where you left to.' I tried to evade her ever penetrating gaze by looking anywhere else, but she had got so close that, as always, avoiding her gaze just meant staring unabashedly at her chest or longingly at the soft, sensitive skin of her neck. I was trying to shift my gaze between the two, sometimes giving the door a once over for good measure.

'I'm afraid that's classified,' she didn't give anything away.

'Classified? I thought you left on Warehouse business?'

'I did,' she nodded, stoically, 'But the mission is on a need to know basis.'

'And I don't need to know?' I asked, with a little more irritation in my voice than I'd intended. I was trying to help her and she was being difficult, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was just so she could see me squirm.

'Exactly. Not even Artie knows.' Now she was just getting off on it.

'Bullshit, I don't need to know. I already told you why I came back here. To find you, to find something that will lead me to you. I've already told you, you're not around three years down the line. That doesn't bother you at all?'

Helena exhaled sharply, it was almost a sigh, and put her hands to her hips. She paused for a moment, choosing her words, deciding their fates. Shaking her head, she said, 'Maybe it's best I'm not around, Myka. I'm sorry if this is a wasted trip for you.' Just like that. So matter of fact. But I didn't have time for her pride, I didn't have time for bickering and I certainly didn't have time for games.

'I don't need to convince you Helena, I know you'll tell me.' And I did, otherwise I wouldn't have been there in the first place. I'd never have received her note.

'What makes you so sure?' Her eyes were narrowed. She was angry with me. Of course! How did I not see it before? She'd done well to hide it this far, but it had been bubbling under the surface since, well, since Boston and Beethoven's key. I recalled the trip. There hadn't been a decision that was made without an argument following and preceding it. Teslas had been drawn far too often, and Helena had used all the shampoo in all the hotel rooms that we'd stayed in well before I'd even had a look in. Every time. Every room. Even the tea tree, which she'd always hated by the way. No wonder the assignment had taken well over the two nights initially projected. I was supposed to be home with days to spare before the wedding. She was angry with me, hurt. I'd not remembered her this way. I'd missed my partner, my comrade, my companion. I'd remembered the times we'd laughed, the times we'd simply sat and spoken candidly until the early hours of the morning about family and lost loves, what was and what is and what we hoped would be. The times she'd read Dickens to me, or Oscar Wilde, or asked me to read her Philip K Dick. Of course she'd be hurt, of course she'd feel angry, betrayed, and perhaps even exploited. I was getting married. I'd not seen it when I'd lived it. I was only really seeing it now. I was marrying someone else, someone who wasn't Helena, and she was angry. I couldn't help but smile. It meant she loved me.

'The machine was fixed,' I grabbed Helena's shoulders, a grin breaking out across my face. 'No burned out wires, not even a manual switch,' She'd prepared everything for me, she'd paved the way for my journey. I knew she'd come round, there's only so much Bering charm an author can resist. 'A remote! A remote you put there for me, something you must have done before you left, so the machine could be activated by the user, so I didn't need anyone else to activate it for me. Just me.'

HG clenched her jaw, and the muscle there began to twitch once again. 'I have been working on a remote device, privately of course,' she added, after a beat.

'See?' I smiled hopefully. My hands were now in hers, willing her to listen, willing her to see. See that I cared. See that I cared enough to want to make changes. See that I loved enough. My eyes pleaded with hers, and I found the embers of hope in them. They just needed a little stoking. 'You wouldn't have done all that if you hadn't agreed to help me.'

'I haven't agreed to help you.' But she was going to, for her hands were no longer in mine. Delicate touches from cool fingers tickled the hot skin of my neck, reddened by the heat of the argument. Her eyes were dark, darker than I'd ever seen them.

'Helena... what if you're not coming back?' I pushed once more, hoping to send her over the edge, hoping she'd give in. Her other hand lingered in the small of my back, pulling slightly at the material there. She was so close. Closer than ever before. I could feel her chest heaving as her breathing became more laboured, her heartbeat more erratic. I could feel her hot breath as it tickled my heat prickled cheeks.

'Then you get to say goodbye,' and it was suddenly her turn to relent as her lips captured mine. The hand on my neck quickly found its way into my thick curls, gripping and pulling ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a quiet gasp from my lips, as the hand in the small of my back easily found its way underneath the linen of my shirt and was now pressed up against flushed skin, sending a burning heat through my body, from every synapse to every nerve ending. I was buzzing, I was alive, more alive than I'd felt in years, and so was Helena G Wells. I finally had her, in my arms, and against my skin. Countless times I had imagined this moment, in this very room no less. Tangled in her sheets, gazing up at her ceiling, wishing she'd been tangled up with me. My hands grasped at her lapels, drawing her as close to me as I could muster, as she placed a soft but insistent bite on my bottom lip asking for the access which I was praying she'd request.

I was going to burst, blood was rushing from my head and I had to grip even tighter to Helena, my hands claiming a chunk of her shirt to stop myself from ending up a puddle on the floor. Begrudgingly I broke our kiss and fell back into the silence of a room punctuated by ragged breathing and small echoes of pleasure. Burying my head in her shoulder, I smiled against her neck as HG's arms encircled me.

'I'm not saying goodbye,' I spoke softly into soft raven hair, 'Not when I've only just found you.'

**TBC**


End file.
